


Here Comes the Snake

by frumious_bandersnatch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Boyking Sam, Cock Warming, Gore, Grace - Freeform, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Non-Sexual Age Regression, Sam is Lucifer’s vessel, Sensory Deprivation, Whump, Wings, bottom!Dean, dub con, noncon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumious_bandersnatch/pseuds/frumious_bandersnatch
Summary: Lucifer won. It feels as if all hope is lost, as if nothing will ever be the same again.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Dean Winchester, Lucifer/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Lucifer
Comments: 18
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InHisImage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InHisImage/gifts).



> Happy very belated birthday to InHisImage! I don’t know what the hell this is but I hope you like it. Chapter with Gabriel to be added soon.

Lucifer hummed, closing his eyes. He felt comfortable, felt at home, felt just right with his grace nestled and wrapped around Sam’s resting soul. The human could see, when he wanted to, and that was so rare these days.

Because Lucifer won. He won everything, he’d won the world and he was flush with the thrill of it all. On the wall behind his throne a set of six pairs of wings, bloody at the ends and twitching with sparks of grace, were mounted. Pure, white, strong and commanding. Michael looked so much better without them; grace a frantic confused whirl inside the vessel he was trapped in. Locked away. Stabbed through the heart. It was only fitting.

“Here,” He called, voice shaped by the sneer spreading his lips. “Come on, kid. Hustle. I know you can, baby.”

It was still too long before Dean was kneeling in front of him. He could tell the man was seething. Jaw clenched, brow creased, eyes narrowed even as he stared down at the floor. And in his head like a mantra, _That’s not Sam, it’s not Sammy, Sam wouldn’t want this._

“That’s right, Dean, you keep telling yourself that. Don’t let that fighting spirit die.” Lucifer chuckled softly and leaned forwards, gripping Dean’s chin and forcing his head up so they could look at eachother eye-to-eye. “Sam’s too blissed out to care, right now, hm?”

Dean said nothing, nostrils flaring. He could do this. He could dissociate, he had thirty years of Hell under his belt and that had been more than enough to teach him that.

“Ah- you’re forgetting something, Dean. I want your attention. I want _you_. Look at me.” Lucifer hummed, and then a flash of pain crossed his face, nose starting to bleed. Bright red against Sam’s tanned skin. “This is a hostage situation. Sam’s still alive. Unsupported. That can change.”

Dean flinched, almost got up before he forced himself to sink back down to his knees. “Don’t.” He croaked, voice cracking from disuse.

“There’s that stupid brotherly love. Always comes through in a pinch. Now what I’ve been trying to get you to realize, Dean,” Lucifer leaned forwards, whispering as if he were telling the most important of secrets, “Is you’re not human. Not anymore. You don’t get your own voice. You don’t get your own actions. At best? Dean, you’re a toy.”

Dean’s upper lip curled, the beginning of a snarl. But the way his shoulders dropped, the way he seemed to deflate- he knew there was nothing he could do. Because the only thing that could kill Lucifer was either on the archangel’s person, or locked away, and only an archangel could kill another archangel anyways. 

It felt like maybe this was the one thing he couldn’t fix. Couldn’t talk his way out of. And it stung, curled up like a weight in his stomach and he felt like he was going to throw up- when was the last time he ate? It would have had to been at least a week, but they were in Hell- but he had his body, so-

“I wouldn’t let you die, Dean. That’s an easy out you won’t get, hm? I like you corporeal. And while letting your bright little soul twist up into a demon...brings me no small amount of joy, that opportunity came and went. Alastair was the best, and I don’t think I’d settle for anything less. So that means I won’t settle at all. Pity.” Lucifer brought his thumb up, ran it along Dean’s lower lip. “Open your mouth.”

Dean remained firm for a moment before grace was arcing like electricity through his body and he howled, made the first real noise he had in so long. Everything was on fire, freezing off, too much, he was crying and in the fuzzy senses that could feel anything other than pain he heard Sam- heard Lucifer laughing. 

As soon as the pain was gone there was something hard and throbbing in his open mouth and he choked, retched, clawed at Lucifer’s thighs.

“Shh, shh, I know. Sammy’s a big boy, isn’t he?” Lucifer stroked his fingers through Dean’s hair. “No biting now, big brother. I love hearing you plead but I won’t hesitate to rip out your teeth. Mkay?”

Dean sobbed, feet scrabbling against the cobble floor. He wasn’t a stranger to sucking dick, but he didn’t want this. Didn’t want it here, or now, or his little brother trapped in there not knowing, and he felt like the scum of the earth.

“Suck. I have a meeting, now, and I hear any noise, feel any movement that’s not you gagging, moaning, moving that pretty little mouth over my cock? I’ll disembowel Sam and make you clean up the mess.”

Dean whimpered, throat spasming as he forced himself to move his head up and down. He was doing this for Sam, suffering this for Sam...he needed a purpose. And even if it was unattainable, it helped. All this for Sam.

“I could share you.” Lucifer mused. “I’m not greedy, and a toy like you- well, so _delectable_. Like to watch you get split open. Bet Sammy would like it too. Shame you killed Azazel. Wouldn’t dream of letting Asmodeus at you. But there are others. Didn’t kill Crowley, yet. Even after the colt deal. He’s useful. He’s a rat. Knows who to follow. And he’s bigger than Sammy here. Or I could call for Ramses...she’s a good hound.” He spoke like Dean had a choice in the matter, was about to continue on but he stopped when the doors swung open and demons entered. He fisted his hand in Dean’s hair and took control of the hunter’s pace, up and down, throat spasming, gagging, whining and sobbing. 

“Sire- sire, we have found evidence that your brother Gabriel is alive.”

Lucifer sighed. So much for going over soul counts. “Huh, no shit. Of course he is. He’s a smart kid. What are you going to do about it, Hastur?” Because Gabriel could throw a wrench in all this. Lucifer knew he’d want to. And he had no qualms about doing the same thing to him as he did to Michael. Because he was a traitorous little shit who could never pick a side and any love, any care had evaporated when he tried to kill him. 

“...What would you wish for us to do, sire?” Hastur was loyal. Lucifer liked that, appreciated it, but would a little free thought be so hard?

“Mount a search. Bring him here.” He held up a hand, summoned a pair of warded cuffs to dangle from his fingers and tossed them over. “Alive, but if you can subdue him, feel free to have a little fun. Just don’t break the poor thing. Now, on to what this meeting is really about, hm? Souls.”

It went on for hours, and Dean tried to pay attention, tried to listen to see if there was a chink in the armor, but Sam’s cock was rammed down his throat and he couldn’t focus on anything else. He was limp, cheeks hollowed and eyes bleary as he lazily moved his head. He didn’t notice the meeting was over. He didn’t notice when Lucifer stopped playing with his hair, though he did let out a subdued whine. 

He gasped sharply when Lucifer eased him away- the archangel hadn’t even cum and he was already stowing himself back in his slacks.

“There. Not too bad, huh? Gets you nice and docile, too, should do it more often. Barely a thought in that pretty little head. I can be good to you, Dean, let you have some playtime with your brother if you’d be more like this. Stay on your knees. Be a good boy. Would you like that?”

Dean said nothing, but Lucifer saw. Could see the cracks around the edges of his resolve widening, hope starting to dissolve. 

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want.” Lucifer was grinning, a wide, terrible thing that stretched Sam’s face and looked so entirely wrong.

“...Yeah. Please. Whatever you want.” Dean rasped. “I’ll…” He cringed in on himself, guilty, “Be good. I’ll be good.”

“You wanna suck my cock again?”

“Nh-“ Dean caught Lucifer’s gaze and closed his eyes, lowered his head immediately. “Yeah.”

“Put some real effort into it, this time. Make your baby brother feel good.” Lucifer sneered, saw the disgust on Dean’s face as he pulled closer and pulled Lucifer’s cock back out.

And then he swallowed his pride, grunting as he parted his lips and deepthroated him immediately. Didn’t want to see Sam hurt so he pulled out every trick he knew, everything he knew he liked.

Halfway through he heard Lucifer moaning, and he froze, jerked, because it wasn’t Lucifer. He could feel the difference, hear the difference. He whimpered, tears beading in his eyes and _keep going, keep going, Lucifer could do anything to him right now if you stop and it’ll all be your fault_.

“Gnh- Dean?” Sam groaned, then jerked suddenly, made to push Dean off before he froze. Had a conversation in his head Dean wasn’t privy to. This was the time he’d be allowed with his brother. And he’d better enjoy it, because Lucifer didn’t really need the elder Winchester. Didn’t need him in the room, didn’t need him close, didn’t need him alive and kicking.

So Sam enjoyed it. And he imagined any other thing they could be doing. Sitting on the hood of the impala, watching the stars. Hugging after a hunt where one of them nearly died, patching eachother up in a motel room. 

He tried to project that to Dean too. Tried to tell him to focus on the fact it was them, and no one else (save Lucifer) and they were close and holding eachother and maybe it could be enough. Lucifer wouldn’t let him force those words out. But he could get away with others.

“Please, Dean. Like that. Love you.” He whispered, carding his hand through his brother’s hair and screwing his eyes shut.

And when he came Lucifer let out just a taste of grace, a sliver of light. He knew Dean would be able to tell. Knew just how addictive it could be. And he was counting on that. Because if Dean was in line, if Dean could begin to be happy- well, Sam could too. And the two Winchesers were the things most apt to fuck up his new world order. Best to keep them both in the same place. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To put it simply—
> 
> Lucifer: oh hi, thanks for checking in; I’m still a piece of garbage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know what I’m doing here. A bit of filler before we get to the real meat of what Lucifer does with Gabriel, I guess, I hope you like it.

The first thing Gabriel looked at when he was dragged into the throneroom wasn’t his brother. Not at all. For once Lucifer wasn’t the biggest and brightest thing. 

It wasn’t even Dean perched on his lap, fucking himself on the archangel’s cock as tears rolled lazily down his face that got Gabriel’s attention.

It was the  _ wings _ . Michael’s. Held over the back of the throne, up against the wall. He could see the faintest tendrils of being, of grace that seeped away from them, presumably tying them to wherever his older brother actually was. The blood muddled with grace that dripped from the stumps on the ends, the feathers that twitched and rustled and stood up in pain. He was gobsmacked. 

Wings were the most important part of an angel’s being. The one part that wasn’t subject to change. Status, honor, weapons, beautiful intricate delicate things that were as close to touching grace to grace as they could get. 

“Hey there, little brother.” Lucifer hummed, eyes flashing red as he unceremoniously dumped Dean from his lap to the floor. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket and stowing his erection in his slacks. 

Gabriel choked out something unintelligible, horrified as he finally wrenched his gaze down, down to Lucifer. 

“Like the new decor?” Lucifer crooked a finger and Gabriel was dragged forwards by his bound hands, crying out sharply. “I was worried at first, you know. That they might look gaudy, but-“ His own wings arched overhead, still bright and beautiful as the dawn, “Not like they can compete, right?”

“You’re sick.” Gabriel whispered. “What’s wrong with you?” He struggled to move back, but he was powered down, grace barely accessible, entire body and form held firm by Lucifer’s power. His own wings shifted nervously and pressed tight against his back.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sick. I’m a monster. I’m  _ cancer _ . I know what you think of me.” Lucifer scoffed, reaching forwards to grab the collar of Gabriel’s shirt and drag him up.

Gabriel jerked, feet scrabbling at the floor until he was lifted up off it. He squirmed, writhing, and everything felt so wrong because this is who he used to go to for comfort and he saw nothing in those red eyes but anger. Boredom. Hate. It scared him.

“And I bet you know what I think of you, huh, buddy? Traitor. You would have killed me for  _ humans _ . It’s- wow. Just, wow.” Lucifer scoffed. “But you can rest easy. I can see you trying to hide your wings away. And while...oh, Gabriel, it would be so much fun to rip them off one by one, that’s not what I have planned.” He followed Gabriel’s frantic gaze to where Dean knelt prostrate on the floor. The younger archangel was trying to speak, trying to force himself to speak. Lucifer didn’t want to hear it, and of all the things he could do to Gabriel’s vessel- removing vocal chords painlessly was the easiest. The youngest archangel always had a quick tongue. Lucifer didn’t need to hear it. The whining, the pleading, he already got more than enough of that. The  _ ‘please, Lucifer, don’t’  _ the  _ ‘we’re brothers’  _ the _ ‘oh god please, why? What’s wrong with you?’ _ — it all got so annoying. 

“It’s not that either. But I can fuck you if you beg nice and pretty for it, mm?” Lucifer chuckled. “No, no, I’m not entirely sure. Hm, could go the mindless route.” He looked back down at Dean. “But I get enough of that from this one, huh?” He kicked the former hunter roughly in the side of the head and watched him sprawl, scrambled back into position and tremble like a leaf. He chuckled. “Cute, right? Like a dog. And I get enough screaming from Michael. What to do, what to do…” Lucifer pursed his lips and released Gabriel’s collar, let him float in the air, supported by grace.

Gabriel finally managed to wheeze, “Please,” Barely even a whisper, just an exhale with the right syllables formed. 

Lucifer slowly sat down, eyes still shining red. He tilted his head to the side and, following the motion, Gabriel slammed into the wall with the force of a bullet and let out a silent shriek. The only sound that came from him, though, was the splintering of bones. And up, against the ceiling, left to drop down to the floor. Over and over until everything was bent at unnatural angles, until blood ran from his ears and bones stuck out of skin where they’d snapped and been forced up.

Gabriel sobbed, tears streaming down his face as he clawed mangled fingers against the floor. Not being able to speak was claustrophobic, unspoken words like a heavy weight in his chest and everything hurt, everything ached and stung and throbbed. Lucifer was so much worse. Than he’d been when he first fell, when the need to destroy and ruin had just been a whisper in his ear. Gabriel liked to think that this was the mark. That this was corruption, that his brother was still in there somewhere and maybe something could be done to save him. 

“You always were better with karmic justice. Guess we have the pagans to thank for that, huh?” Lucifer mused. “Thought of stripping you of your grace. Letting you burn out. But it takes so long for humans to die when they don’t have help.” He sighed, lounging back on the throne and snapping his fingers. Dean was up in a flash, shaking hands fumbling to unbutton his slacks and pull out his cock. 

Lucifer hummed softly, closing his eyes for a moment as Dean started to suck his cock. “But for the moment? This is easier.” He snapped again, and Gabriel jerked, everything tensed. 

He was writhing, mouth open in a silent howl as Lucifer’s grace took hold of his true form and tore into it, ripped at his wings and arced across his being, constricting, tightening, too much, too much.

“Let’s hear what he has to say, huh, Dean?” Lucifer snapped one last time and suddenly Gabriel’s screams were echoing through the room, human voice mixed with true enough to shatter what little glass there was. Even with so much broken he found a way to writhe, twisting and spasming on the floor until he managed to drag his heavy limbs in and curl into a tight ball. He never stopped screaming. Not for that day, not until the afternoon of the ext when his voice finally gave out and he was left sobbing, still shuddering and jerking even as the pain faded. 

“What do we think, buddy? More penance? More of this? Or do you like what Dean’s got going on?” Lucifer knew, in the end, both would hurt. Because Gabriel wouldn’t necessarily hate sex. They’d done something similar, less messy, in the beginning. Before vessels. But he would hate serving, he would hate being complicit, and he’d never break unless Lucifer wanted him to. Not like Dean did. He’d have to consciously stoop low every day and act as if he owed Lucifer his life, as if Lucifer was his world. “You know what? I’ll give you a day to think.” And in an instant his brother was gone. Lucifer didn’t have to hear him screaming to know how much pain he was in. Sometimes it was even better when he couldn’t see it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oof ouch this one hurts. I’m sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel’s POV should be coming next, once I figure out what to do with him! I’m kinda stumped here so it might be a while. Hope you enjoy!

Dean never looked Sam in the eye. Not when Lucifer ‘let him play nurse to his big brother’. It was a Sisyphean task to get him to stop trying to suck his cock, and even then, he still did.

Sam sighed as he carefully stitched a deep gash on Dean’s cheek. He remembered the first time he was allowed this. This escape.

_ Dean, stop. It’s me, it’s Sam, let me help you. _ And all Dean had heard was irritation and a raised voice and he was trembling, mouthing frantically at Sam’s cock and breathing out little ‘I’m sorrys’ and ‘I’ll do betters’.

_ Snap out of it, man! I’m not Lucifer, you can stop pretending, just stop. Stop. _ Dean didn’t understand. Would never understand. He wasn’t pretending, he was broken almost beyond recognition. And Lucifer had laughed in the back of Sam’s head, and ‘what a disgusting little whore your brother turned out to be’ because Dean was deepthroating Sam before he had time to protest, was working his fingers into his hole and stretching himself out for Sam and ignoring the burn and attoneing, had to atone because Lucifer was angry, because he was disappointing and toys shouldn’t cry but he just couldn’t stop.

Sam shook his head. He’d learned, since then. How to deal with all this, how to calm Dean and give him a brief respite from Hell. “Shh, that’s okay, Dean. Such a good boy.” The words stung on the way out, tasted bitter as they formed in his mouth, but the way Dean slumped into his touch and gave an affectionate little purr was worth it. 

Dean didn’t talk much. Toys didn’t talk. That was okay, Sam could imagine. The ‘thanks a mil, Sammy, you were always better at this than I am’ when Sam cleaned out a wound or tapped into Lucifer’s grace to heal it. The ‘we’ll figure this out. We always do. You don’t give up, Sam’, when Dean would slump in his arms and hold him like he knew it was his brother in control.

Dean was softer. Didn’t have the same wiry muscles, was weak when he struggled if Sam did something wrong, triggered something. He wasn’t fat. God knew Lucifer didn’t feed him enough for that,  _ I could Sammy, would never have pegged you for a chubby chaser but if that’s what floats your boat- _

Sam grit his teeth. Anything he wanted but freedom, anything he wanted but Dean being safe. Anything he wanted but Michael couldn’t stop screaming and it hurt his head.

“Hey, Jude,” Sam tried to sing barely a whisper, voice soft and breaking but Dean curled up in his arms, residual tension fading as tears rolled fat and wet down Sam’s cheeks to land on his back. “Don’t make it bad,” Through the song twice, even though by the end Sam’s words were hitched with sobs because all he wanted was his brother back, wanted his big brother to be there and tell him everything was alright and it wasn’t fair.

Sam would fall asleep, holding Dean against his chest, breathing him in, forcing himself to rest and hopefully Dean would too.

Dean was limp in his arms. Moveable, pliant, but limp. Like the G.I. Joe Sam stole for him one year for Christmas, and Dean had been over the moon and- Sam was crying again. Remembering hurt. Part of him wanted Lucifer to take that away, to ease the transition, to make him forget  _ brother and best friend and us against the world _ because it hurt too damn much. But he couldn’t. Because if he didn’t know Dean as anything other than a toy it would be worse for him. And Lucifer could get away with more. And Lucifer might even kill him and be done with that. Sam wouldn’t abandon his brother.

_ How noble, Sammy. How positively gallant of you. He wouldn’t notice, you know. He’d kiss the ground I- sorry,  _ you  _ walk on and he’d love it, wouldn’t he? _

Sam tried to ignore Lucifer. Because this was supposed to be his time in control, supposed to be his thing, his escape and even that was tainted. “Shut up.” He whispered and the way Dean tensed made him want to claw out his heart. “Not you, not you, Dean. Love you, good boy, so good for me. So good. Love you.” He croaked, voice wavering. “So good.”

Dean cooed again, a quiet little sound pushed out of his chest as he nuzzled a little closer to Sam, gave him the warmth and touch he needed and  _ make him happy, do your job, stupid stupid stupid can’t even make him happy pathetic little toy, just good for fucking those plush lips and that gaping hole and be good or he’ll let the hounds at you again you pathetic piece of trash. You’re not worthy. He’s not Sam.  _ But ‘Lucifer’ was being so kind to him, right now, so soft and warm and below the nothing, the learned helplessness, and the ingrained, constant deprecation, he was calm. Loved. Happy, almost. Lucifer fell asleep. Dean wondered at that sometimes when they did this. Wondered as much as his addled mind could manage. Angels didn’t sleep. Maybe this one did. He didn’t question, wasn’t allowed to question and eyes closed, soft breathing, meant sleep. Dean stayed close, didn’t stop, didn’t close his eyes. And when all was still and the lights were out and he was certain it was okay, “S’okay. S’okay. Love you. Gn’a f’gure t’out.” He slurred, voice cracked and words confused, mostly from disuse because he could say ‘yes, please, fuck, master, please’ all he wanted but nothing else. Sometimes there were days he didn’t know if there was anything else and he tried to speak and those were all the sounds he could make. Everything was confusing. Easier to just slip away and do what Lucifer wanted. Easier to reassure himself that Sammy was gone, wasn’t home, wasn’t doing this because that made an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach and the last time he’d vomited after Lucifer choked him on his cock hadn’t been fun. “Love you Sammy.” And he was blinking away tears of his own as sleep claimed him too. And Lucifer would have been howling with laughter but neither brother would be able to hear it.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know where the fuck! Im going with this! Is it any good? I hope so! Aah!

No words. No sight. No touch, no sound. Not even his archangelic senses. Nothing.

Maybe he was nothing. Just a fluke in the cosmos, a consciousness with no body. But that didn’t explain the memories. Heaven. Wings. He had wings. He was sure of it.

Could he scream? Could he cry out? If a tree falls in an empty forest…

He had a name, too. Gabriel. That was him- was he a him? What did that mean. Gabriel. He had to remember that, he knew that much.

Gabriel.

Gabriel is too long, he wants to float on nothing. Wants to slip away, so easy to slip away.

Gabe. Him? Is it him? Doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel right,

Gav’riel. Simple. More him than anything else. Gav’riel, Gav’riel...who is he?

Who is it?

What is it? Is it something? Or...nothing just like everything else? It floats. It likes floating, likes resting. It knows it can do that if nothing else. Rest. It has no words, it does not speak. It has no ears, it does not hear, no skin to touch. It doesn’t know what these things are, it does not miss them, anyways. 

No motion. No illusion, nothing. Idly it feels like it used to be fast.  _ Fast _ , fastest out of… what was it the fastest of? How could it be fastest if there’s nothing? It dismisses the thought, easier not to think at all.

Nothing.

  
  


Bliss.

  
  
  


Always and forever.

  
  
  
  
  


Suddenly, slowly, instantly, it doesn’t know, never knows, time has no meaning-  _ something. Everything. How is there anything if its- _

Light. It shrieks, flails- it can move, it can speak, the forest isn’t empty. Everything, everything, too much, the forest is stone walls and mildew and torchlight and it’s abhorrent. It wants nothing again, nothing nothing let it float let me float please-

There is noise. Funny noises, rhythmic, they must have meaning. There is touch that is not it or the floor, it feels familiar. Feels cold and fire and concepts it used to have, does it have a memory? It remembers feeling and temperature and  _ sound _ , horns. It had a horn once. It sounded almost as beautiful as whatever was holding it right now.

“Shh, you’re alright. We don’t have to do that again. You’re okay, Gabriel. You’re okay.”

Gabriel! It was Gabriel, it had to remember that. Gabriel had to remember that it- that he had a name. Noises...the noises were words. He took a while to remember what words were, what they meant. “Want...wanna float. Wanna float again, no, too much. Too much. Too much. Float.” He croaked.

Lucifer stared down at Gabriel for a few seconds. Eyes still dazed, limbs jerking and wings shuddering, rustling behind him. Fingers twitching like his younger brother was playing a piano only he could see.

It was more than he’d expected, more than what he’d wanted, really. Wanted repentance, wanted ‘I’m sorry please just not again’. But this...he could work with. He laughed.

“Not all the way, hm? Here. Thank me.” Lucifer shifted Gabriel into his lap and placed a hand to the side of his head. 

And as Gabriel’s vision faded again, as his limbs felt more like he was wearing rubber gloves all over, as hearing dulled, he gasped. “Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthank-“ He reached up and clutched himself tight, tight so tight against, “Lucifer.” He whispered. Voice sounded young, sounded like he had no idea why he was there or what his brother had done. “Lu, Lu I’m- thank you!”

He spoke excitedly. Reminded Lucifer of when he was young. A fledgling, he mused idly. It was only when Gabriel chirped happily that he realized just where his brother’s head was.

And it felt sweet. Felt nice. He’d missed having something to take care of, something to mold and shape. So he hummed softly, an old hymn, and stood with Gabriel held gently against his chest. “That’s it, little brother. Stay close.” And for a moment his voice was unburdened and soft, sweet, almost melodic.

And then it was right back on again, eyes flashing red, something old and dark pulsing where it was still intertwined with the light of his grace. He’d give Gabriel a day of calm, at least.

Of sitting in his lap on the throne, of huddling down and making himself small and Lucifer grooming his wings so tenderly, so lovingly. Soft and sweet. It was a break for Sam, too, a break from rage and overwhelming grace.

It was a break for Dean; the human was allowed to lay curled up on his side on a scratchy linen cloth- better than the cold floor. Better than the stone biting into his back, but he barely noticed the difference.

and not a single one of them knew what the next day held.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ‘The Cherry Poppin’ Daddies’ song


End file.
